


To All the Boys I've Loved Before

by FancyNewWeasley



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Inspired by To All The Boys I've Loved Before
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:55:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22764352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FancyNewWeasley/pseuds/FancyNewWeasley
Summary: Brienne Tarth is content with relative obscurity in high school. Attention typically only results in humiliation for her. But people were paying attention now that she was dating Jaime Lannister. Well, as far as everyone knew she was dating him.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 53
Kudos: 244





	1. Chapter 1

No one would have pegged Brienne Tarth as the romance-novel-reading, fairytale-believing, head-in-the-clouds type. Exceptional athlete? Yes, with her tremendous height and strength, not to mention dedication, she was the MVP of any team she was on. Good student? She epitomized the words “good” and “student”. But hopeless romantic? No one would guess. Everything about her was solid, grounded.

Girls who were petite and feminine and vulnerable drew hearts in the margins of their notes and pictured themselves in the role of the romantic heroine. No one would suspect that Big Brienne, with her baggy, masculine clothes, and apparent lack of sexuality dreamed of being swept off her feet. That while she was running drills or lifting weights, she was daydreaming.

Things were better in fantasy. In fantasy, Brienne could pretend that it was possible that she could actually get the guy, that someone would genuinely like her for who she was. In real life, the best case scenario that boys paid attention to her in was when they wanted her to pass the ball. The worst was, well, hardly a scene from a rom-com.

“Brienne the _Beauty_ ,” she heard someone say in passing while she was at her locker at the start of the day. She didn’t turn around to see who.

“Hey,” said a familiar, friendlier voice. She closed her locker to find Sansa Stark on the other side of it. Traditionally, it wouldn’t exactly be cool for an upperclassman to consider a ninth grader one of their best friends, but Sansa was already way more popular than Brienne.

Sansa lived next door with the Tyrell family, who had taken her in when she lost her own family. Despite undergoing such tragedy at a young age, Sansa retained her kindness and hope in, what Brienne thought, was a truly remarkable way.

“Could I get a ride home with you after school?” she asked.

“Are you sure you want to drive with me?” Brienne hadn’t exactly gotten her confidence up yet when it came to driving.

“You’re better than you think,” Sansa said with unearned assurance. “You’re just psyching yourself out.”

That was true. For someone so bold and instinctual on a court or field, she was quick to panic behind the wheel. “As long as you’re aware of the risks,” Brienne replied.

Brienne could feel Cersei before she even saw her, tipped off by the way all the eyes in the hall were suddenly engaged with a figure approaching in her periphery. Cersei was like a small moon with a gravitational pull around her. She paused in front of Brienne and Sansa, the latter who stood up straight and put on her best pageant smile, the former who slouched and fidgeted with her lock, even though she didn’t need anything else from her locker.

“Tarth Tires Softball League Champs 2011,” Cersei said, reading the words on the back of the old shirt Brienne was sporting. “I suppose even then you were big and strong enough to play with the boys, huh, Brienne?”

Sansa bristled. “It’s my dad’s,” Brienne said, nothing to say but to state the obvious.

“Nice that you still have someone you can share clothes with in the family.”

Brienne swallowed, a bad taste in her mouth as if she had eaten Cersei’s bitter words. Brienne knew the other girl had lost her mom too, so she tried to have some grace for her. But she couldn’t understand why she needed to take her stuff out on Brienne, an utter nobody about 493 rungs below her on the social ladder.

Brienne was spared from having to respond to that comment when Cersei’s boyfriend appeared behind her, wrapping his hands around her waist and nuzzling into her neck. She leaned into him, smirking. As if the whole display would personally bother Brienne or make her jealous. Far from it.

To be fair, Brienne hadn’t always thought Jaime Lannister was icky. In fact, in seventh grade, they shot hoops together practically every lunch period. And when he was faced with kissing her in a game of Spin the Bottle (that looking back on, she couldn’t understand why she was even participating) he planted a straightforward peck on her lips without trickery or complaint or cruelty. Which she couldn’t say about any of the other boys in middle school.

But then he’d started dating his stepsister, well former stepsister, if you think that makes a difference. Brienne didn’t really.

From the ages of seven to eleven, Jaime’s dad had been married to Cersei’s mom, before she died. After that, Cersei went to live with her dad and by the time high school hit, she and Jaime were an item. Brienne wondered what their fathers thought of it all.

“Morning, wench,” Jaime said, a callback to a middle school field trip to Medieval Times that Jaime never seemed to tire of. “You watch the game last night?”

In spite of herself, she grinned. “Oh, you're bringing it up? Pretty sure all the other Kingsguard fans are hiding their faces today."

“You know I'm nothing if not loyal. And those are strong words coming from someone who’s team is 3-6.”

“You’ll be able to get in there and play for them before you know it, Brienne,” Cersei said, acerbically, before strutting away, gesturing for Jaime to follow.

“Sorry,” he said, walking backwards, “she’s doing a cleanse. It’s making her cranky.”

Sansa mumbled to Brienne, “I think she’s been on a cleanse her whole life?”

* * *

Brienne pulled up to the curb in front of her house, grateful that parallel parking was not required of her today.

“Where is Margaery today?” Brienne asked, as she and Sansa gathered their things out of the trunk.

“Oh, she and Really left after fifth period to go on a college tour.”

 _Renly_.

Brienne was used to scummy jerks making jokes at her expense and pretty much everyone else not caring she existed. But Renly didn’t ignore her or torment her, and he wasn’t a loser. He was junior class president, often the lead in the school plays, and would undoubtably be homecoming king. And he was nice to her, painfully nice. He didn’t make her feel like a freak to be pitied or ridiculed, he made her just feel like a normal girl.

And then he started dating Margaery.

Brienne and Margaery were about as close as people so different could be. Certainly they were quite close geographically, being next-door neighbors. And Marg had always been nice to Brienne, made her feel as included as she could, but Brienne would never truly feel apart of or comfortable in her world. She didn't have the same sincerity, trustworthiness, as Sansa. 

“Well, you’re welcome to come over to work on homework,” Brienne offered. “I just have to leave for practice at quarter to five.”

“Sure,” Sansa said, “How’d you do in Algebra II? Maybe you can help me a little with this section.”

“I did okay,” Brienne shrugged. “I’d be happy to try."

That evening, Brienne glimpsed Renly’s car pulling up from out her window and her heart leapt. She tapped her pen urgently, torn between coming up with a reason to go outside and knowing that it was stupid. She heard car doors slam and she jumped up, running to the kitchen to take out the trash, pretending not to hear her father say, “Uh, Brienne, that’s hardly full!”

Renly, sweet, thoughtful Renly, with his tousled dark locks and blue eyes, was like a Disney prince come to life. He and Marg made complete sense as a couple— both impeccably styled and groomed, high-achieving, amiable, and popular. Perfect. Unassailable.

Pretending not to see them, Brienne tossed the garbage in the can loudly and started walking back towards the house when she heard “Hey, Tarth!” It felt simultaneously like the wind had been knocked out of her and she’d come up for air. “Oh, hey guys,” she said, casually.

After some small talk, Marg said, "Wanna come over for dinner? Renly's already joining us."

Brienne hesitated, thinking of her father heating up his frozen dinner and eating in front of the television alone. But she knew he'd want her to go out, always encouraging her to spend time with friends and put herself out there. Yes, that was definitely the main reason she agreed, as she glanced at Renly's striking blue eyes.

* * *

Brienne had never dabbled in any substances that would alter her mental state, but it felt like she was coming down off a high when she came home that evening. She knew better, that hanging around Renly wasn’t going to make the situation any better, but she couldn’t help it. Time in his presence was addictive.

As she slung her stuff on the floor of her room, a box in her closet caught her eye and she winced a little. A great reminder of why she shouldn’t let herself get caught up in this. She should move that into a less visible place.

The letters had started as a way of just getting her feelings out of her, a momentary indulgence in a crush, since she was certainly never going to openly confess. Now they mainly existed as cautionary tales, warnings against trusting her very easily fooled heart.

The first one had been for Ron, a redheaded boy in the first grade who had given her a valentine. It turned out to be a prank, egged on by the other boys. Then Jaime. That’s right, the Spin the Bottle incident had made quite an impression on Brienne, if only briefly. She had also written a letter to Tormund, a Norwegian boy she had met at summer camp who was almost as tall as her and did actually seem to like her. Even though she wouldn’t let him get close, she still took some pleasure in the attention, especially since she didn't know him long enough for it to be ruined.

The letter to Hyle was the worst of them. Last year, the aforementioned scummy jerks had a bet going on who could take Brienne the Beauty’s virginity. Hyle had made a good effort. He didn’t come on too strong, but slowly won her over, getting her gifts, taking an interest in what she liked, making her laugh, sharing things with her. But it had ended in the worst humiliation when Mr. Tarly, the economics teacher, caught wind of the bet. All the boys got in trouble and the whole school found out about it all and Brienne had wanted to transfer. But she hadn’t, and she survived. As sick as it made her feel, something told her to keep the letter.

She told herself she’d never write another letter after Hyle, but the one she wrote to Renly wasn’t because she thought she had any kind of chance. It was just because she thought him so overwhelmingly decent and good and she just felt lucky to be in his orbit. The letter was a ‘Perfect Guy’ plaque that she wanted to award to Renly in the hall of fame in her heart. She was acutely aware of how embarrassing it was, but it was her little secret.


	2. Chapter 2

Field hockey wasn’t exactly the most followed sport at school, so Brienne was pleasantly surprised, if a little confused, to find the stands more full than usual when she came running out for her match, a couple of weeks into the start of the school year. Her eyes scanned the crowd briefly. She didn’t want to be distracted, but she was curious.

To her surprise, she spotted Jaime Lannister, arm in a sling, slouching in the stands beside his younger brother Tyrion.

Jaime had been the star quarterback, in the process of being scouted by major universities until two weeks ago, just at the start of the season, when he had found himself on the wrong end of a bad tackle. His arm and wrist had been broken—from what Brienne had heard from the Tyrells, broken beyond repair. He had dragged through the halls in the subsequent days, misery wafting off of him. Brienne had seen him and Cersei fighting in the parking lot on more than one occasion. Though he didn’t look particularly happy, scowling in the stands, she supposed being out at a school function was progress, likely encouraged by his brother.

She nearly tripped when she realized that Renly was also in the crowd, sitting on the bleachers with Loras Tyrell. Loras was a tremendous athlete himself. Actually with Jaime out of the running, as the center midfielder on a champion soccer team, he was probably the school’s star sportsman now. If you didn’t count Brienne, which no one did.

Why today was the day some of the most popular and significant upperclassmen in the school took notice of field hockey, Brienne couldn’t guess. Her hands started to sweat, having nothing to do with the temperature or exertion. She would have to focus hard to not let the audience affect her game play.

She prevailed in staying focused and the team was victorious. After emerging from the group huddle, she couldn’t help but peek over at the stands, searching for Renly. But he wasn’t in the stands; he and Loras were waiting on the other side of the chainlink fence, and he waved her over when he realized Brienne had spotted them. Thankfully the exercise was a good cover for why she was so flushed and sweaty.

They congratulated her on a match well played, gushing that she clearly carried the team.

“Thanks,” she said, biting her lip nervously, eager to redirect the conversation away from their praise. “What brought you guys out?”

Loras spoke first. “Sansa was saying how we should really come out and support you.”

“She _reminded_ us how we’d been _wanting_ to come cheer you on—” Renly interjected.

“And I keep hearing the field hockey team is on fire,” Loras added.

“I want to get around to support as many of the different school activities as possible, you know, the kind of president who’s really a _man of the people_.” He put on a mock-politician tone.

Brienne laughed, although she couldn’t help think that sometimes it did feel like Renly was trying to win people’s votes, figuratively. He was universally liked, but that didn’t just happen, he worked at ingratiating himself to people. But his intentions weren’t bad, so she didn’t fault him for it.

“Shaking hands, kissing babies, right. Well, thanks you guys, it means a lot. I think the team got a real morale boost from having such a great turnout.” Brienne beamed at Renly.

“Sansa and Marg wanted to be here too, but they’ll just have to catch the next one,” he said.

They walked with her towards the locker room and Loras was noting Brienne’s athletic prowess. “I just didn’t expect you’d be as quick as you are for your size. I wish I could get you defending on my team.”

Brienne knew he meant it as a compliment but still felt stung by the reference to her appearance. Not that it was possible to forget her size— she was several inches taller than both the boys she was walking alongside— but it would be nice if something that was slightly painful for her didn’t have to be in her stats package.

She parted with the guys and scolded herself as she changed. What was there to complain about? She had Renly’s friendship, even his attention, sometimes, in a way. That was all she was going to get. She should just be content and thrilled that he had actually come to her match and not poison that joy by wishing there could be more.

She was backing out of the parking lot when she felt a thud. Her stomach lurched with dread— no! The parking lot was practically empty! Her heart beating frantically in her chest, she looked behind her to find it it was Jaime Lannister she’d endangered.

“One arm isn’t enough for you, wench?” he said, leaning down to her window as she rolled it down. His tone was joking, but there was no laughter in his expression. “Better make sure I never walk again too, to be safe?”

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Tyrion approached, coming around the front of the car. “Ah, don’t be angry with her,” Tyrion said. “At least it wasn’t me. I would be rolled right under the car before anyone could notice.” Brienne had to lean out the window to properly see him. “Excellent performance out there today,” he told her. “Worthy of you getting out of bed for, wouldn’t you say, Jaime?”

Tyrion made Brienne uneasy, not because he’d ever said anything impolite directly to her, simply because his sport was verbal and his strength was his wit. It felt as if he always had a second meaning, or as if she couldn’t catch whatever the joke was.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jaime said, surly.

“Now now, lets not upset the lady, lest she decide to finish the job,” he said, backing away from the car with his hands up.

Jaime followed, unamused, and Brienne called out another apology before rolling up her windows. She waited for them to drive out of the lot before she actually started reversing again.

When she pulled up in front of her house, she saw Renly’s car parked across the street. Her smile stopped about halfway up her face and turned to a grimace when she realized that he and Marg were in the car together and before she could even think about escaping inside to give them privacy, she realized that they weren’t fooling around, they were arguing.

Wide-eyed, Brienne scurried across her front lawn and into the house. What did two attractive, privileged, rich, and revered teens whose parents were all still alive and married to each other even have to fight about? Their color scheme plans for homecoming?

Apparently something significant, because Brienne awoke to a text from Sansa the next morning that said, “Marg and Renly split up!” with a series of shocked emojis.

Brienne didn’t know how to react or what to feel. As Sansa’s emojis choice reflected, the development _was_ shocking— they’d been dating for two years and seemed on track to stay together at least until they went to college, if not longer. She did feel sad for them, as it would be a blow to their social sphere and surely disrupt their lives. For example, Renly was such good friends with Loras. What would they do now that Renly was his sister’s ex?

Of course, the prospect of Renly being single was enough to feel giddy over. Except for the fact that Brienne knew there was no chance for her. Having Margaery in the picture at least allowed her to blame it on the fact that he was taken, and not that she just wasn’t wanted.

She could be a friend to him in a trying time, at least. To both of them, really. She hoped anyway. She would have to hear more on the nature of the break-up and whether it was amicable enough that people didn’t feel the need to choose sides.

* * *

A few days later, Brienne was running on the track, warming up, when Jaime of all people came up jogging beside her, cast and all. She could hardly think of a time Jaime had just come up to talk to her for no reason, so she came to a halt.

A little out of breath, hands on her hips, she said, “Is something up?” He was a grade older, but they were in the same psych class. Maybe he wanted her notes or something.

“Yeah, look, Tarth,” he said, a reluctant half-smile on his face, but his tone was strangely serious. “I’m flattered and all, but I just wanted you to know that I’m not really in a place to be thinking like that. Cersei and I only just broke up and I’m in a weird place with this injury and, look, it’s just not going to happen.”

To say Brienne was confused was an understatement. She was so confused she could barely process what Jaime was getting at and her brain felt like a pinball machine, thoughts bouncing around, trying to find the context that would make what he was saying make sense.

Then she glimpsed the letter in his hand.

Then she fainted.


	3. Chapter 3

“What happened?”

“You passed out,” Jaime said, suppressing laughter.

Brienne started to sit up slowly, propping herself up on her elbows. Jaime knelt down on the track, arms outstretched to help bring her to a sitting position. 

“Jeez, wench, I knew you thought I was dreamy, but I didn’t think you would literally swoon at my feet.” His tone was playful, but Brienne still was in a panic to set the record straight.

“I have _no idea_ how that got sent out. That was from _years_ ago, like seventh grade, I don’t even know what it says. Please, forget this ever happened.” 

Brienne felt like she had been tossed into the washing machine. Probably partially because she had crashed onto the track only moments before, but also because she was spinning with thoughts— how in the world did the letter get out, what exactly did it say, and— God, no— did they _all_ get out?

Right as that dreaded thought passed through her mind, she glimpsed Renly on the opposite end of the field. On his face was a look of apprehension and in his hand was an envelope. Brienne froze, focusing for a second to get a better look. 

It _was_ her letter, the most recent one she had written. Unlike the one Jaime had received, this one wasn’t deniable. All she wrote was still true. She had poured her heart out, gushing about all of Renly’s admirable qualities, dreaming of a world where they were together, where he pulled on to their street to see her, not Margaery. 

Brienne had always been more physically capable than emotionally. So, in this moment when it felt like her world was imploding, while her brain raced to try and come up with excuses, justifications, loopholes, her body took charge with the closest thing available. 

She lunged forward, grabbing Jaime’s face and pressing her lips against his. He was pushed backwards a little by the force of the movement and steadied himself by propping himself up with his good hand, his cast hanging by her waist. 

Despite the shock of the move and the clumsiness of the execution, he didn’t shove her off of him. But that could also be because she was strong and her grip on him was tight. Brienne wasn’t exactly in her right mind, but she did feel him shift his face in her hands a little, improving the angle. 

This snapped her back to reality and she pulled away, blushing so fiercely it was like a second-degree burn, and jumped up onto her feet. She took a quick inventory of witnesses— Renly had stopped in his tracks, his eyes bugging out of his head like he’d seen a dragon. The boys JV soccer team was practicing on the field and a few of them were whispering and laughing; Coach Selmy had clearly seen because the usually stoic man looked absolutely gobsmacked. 

Jaime was saying something but she wasn’t listening. Frankly, she was afraid of what she would do if she stayed there any longer, and there was no salvaging the situation, so she simply took off into a run, jogging the long way around the track to avoid Renly. Jaime was still lying in the middle of the lanes where she’d left him, and she thought she could hear him laughing. 

Brienne missed practice for the first time. 

She had gone home and torn her room apart looking for her letters, but there was no sign of them. The hat box was there, but no letters. 

She sat on the floor of her room, up against her bed, trying to breathe and assess the damage. _Why didn’t I just shred them?_

Hyle had moved, more than once, since she'd written to him, so she hoped that would never reach him. That would be more humiliation than Brienne could bear. 

Tormund was in Norway, so even if he got his letter, he was safely on the other side of the world. Since she wasn’t on social media, without her number, the most he could do was write back.

Ron would be rough. She grimaced— she was only eleven when she wrote that one and it was cringeworthy. She would expect him to share it with everyone he knew as a means of tormenting her.

Jaime, well, she had already been through the worst of it with Jaime. Now that she had some time to process it, she thought it was actually kind of sweet, how he’d responded. He’d gone straight to her to politely let her down, and he’d tried not to make it personal; he mainly said that he wasn’t ready to be dating. 

Brienne laughed deliriously to herself at that. That Jaime Lannister would bother to say to Brienne Tarth, “It’s not you, it’s me,” was just comical. 

Renly would be even nicer, she was sure. But it would never be the same, never comfortable with him again. And if Margaery found out, Brienne would be mortified, and that would make things weird with the Tyrells too. In one fell swoop, she’d spoiled things with most of the people in school that she considered friends. 

_They were never really your friends. They just pitied you._

Brienne heard her father calling and took the opportunity to push away the cruel thoughts.

“Hey sweetie,” Selwyn said, kissing Brienne’s head. “I got us subs from Billy’s.” 

Brienne smiled and accepted the sandwich silently.

“What’s new? How was school?”

“Nothing, really,” Brienne lied, shrugging, avoiding eye contact. 

The slam of a car door and familiar beep of locking made Brienne snap to attention. She ran over to the window, crouching down so her conspicuous frame wasn’t so obvious, and peeked over the sill. Renly’s BMW was parked outside, and inside of walking to the Tyrell’s, he was striding up their own driveway. 

Panicking, Brienne practically leapt away from the window. “Oops, sorry, Dad, forgot I gotta go… do… something!” She said, grabbing her wallet and phone and disappearing out the back door by the kitchen.

“Nothing new, huh?” she heard her dad say just before there was a knock at the door.

Heart pounding, Brienne escaped out the back unseen by climbing a tree and hopping her fence. She was surprised at her own agility, but the adrenaline helped. 

With time to kill and a profile to keep low, she started walking towards the little diner that was a couple of blocks away. Maybe she could outline an upcoming essay on her phone over a milkshake so it wasn’t a total waste of time. As if she'd be able to concentrate on homework right now. 

She picked the booth all the way in the back at Cate’s Cafe, sat facing the wall, and opted instead to order a decaf coffee, as the walk had made her a little chilly. She was slightly paranoid, looking over her shoulder every minute, and yet she was still surprised when the person who slid into the booth opposite her was Jaime. It didn’t seem like his kind of place; she imagined he’d frequent the trendy premium coffee shops that people posted about on Instagram. 

“What’re you doing?” Brienne asked, apprehensively. 

“Well you sent me a love letter—”

“Shh!” Brienne interjected.

He carried on at the same volume, “—where you called me a ‘ golden knight’ and then told me to forget it happened and _then_ jumped me on the track, so I think I’m entitled to seek some answers.”

Brienne made a pained expression. That was fair enough, actually. “I-I don’t even know how…” She put her face in her hands. She realized her shoulders were practically up to her ears and she relaxed, exhaling and steadying herself. "I didn’t want to jump you. I just had to pretend I liked you so someone _else_ wouldn’t think I liked them.”

“There’s someone else? Wench, that stings,” he said, his hand on his heart and a tone of mock offense. The waitress brought him his soda and he sipped it, still staring at her, smirking playfully and then asking, “And who is this mystery prince?”

“No,” she said, waving her arms across her chest. “This has been enough humiliation already.”

“You don’t want to me to go asking around, do you?” he said, leaning back and folding his arms.

She glared, remembering that Jaime could be kind of a dick. Sighing, she said, “Renly Baratheon?”

Jaime looked taken aback. “Baratheon? Really?”

“I’m aware of how ridiculous it is; it’s not like I thought it was a possibility or anything. He was never supposed to get the letter. No one was.”  


“I just wouldn’t have pegged the dainty pretty boy for your type,” he said pensively, before “—Wait, he got a letter too? How many letters were there?”

“Is this interview over yet?” she said, feeling overexposed and impatient. 

“Just help me understand a little more and I’ll leave you alone,” he said, hands up as if surrendering. 

Brienne fixed her gaze on a point on the wall behind them and determined to push through it quickly. “I wrote these letters, they were basically like journal entries, but I wrote them to crushes that I’ve had over the years. It was just an exercise in expressing some feelings, never supposed to go anywhere.”

She paused. Up until today, she hadn’t really thought about the ill-fated letters much, but now, seeing how it played out, she couldn’t believe how silly she was. She was still processing it all herself, honestly. She had actually kissed Jaime Lannister a few hours ago. “It was stupid to address them and it was very stupid to keep them in the first place, but they were sort of like,” she turned redder, refusing eye contact, “cautionary tales of sorts. And, clearly, I’ve never learned my lesson.” The last sentence she mumbled, more to herself than to him.

“What do you mean ‘cautionary tales’? And jeez, how many letters are there?” he said, seeming genuinely intrigued. 

“The rest are even more ridiculous than you and Renly, if you can believe it.” 

“Wow, I don’t feel nearly as special anymore. Player on and off the field, apparently,” he said, amused. She wasn’t sure if she appreciated the light, disarming way he was taking this or not. She was in crisis and he was treating it all like mildly amusing entertainment. “So who are the other lucky guys?”

She felt incredibly ashamed and Jaime must have read her discomfort. “What do you mean by ‘cautionary tale’?” he asked again, softly and more seriously. 

“One was to someone from camp you wouldn’t know. The other two were Red Ron and Hyle Hunt, both times I…” She couldn’t even say the word ‘like,’ it just made her feel stupid all over again “…wrote letters to them it just ended up they were messing with me.”

His eyebrows shot up and he let out a guffaw. “Wow. You clearly have _awful_ taste in guys. Now I’m offended to be in this company. Those douchebags don’t deserve to tie your shoes, let alone get a love letter.”

“Yeah, well, they started out nice.” Her voice grew soft and unsteady. She shrugged, hoping to come across like she didn’t care. 

“They’re assholes,” he said, focusing back on her. “I’m surprised they could even pretend to be otherwise and I’m sorry they got away with it for a second."

Brienne swallowed. She was gonna have to deal with it all again anyway, if Ron did get his letter. 

“Do you want a ride home?” he asked, putting an end to the grilling. Teasing her must not be as fun when there was clearly some actual pain there.

“Uh, no thanks,” she offered a weak smile.

“C’mon, I know you walked here.”

“I know, but I left because Renly was at my house,” she grimaced. 

He made a face that said “Ah, right.” “You’ll have to face him sometime, won’t you? What will you say?”

“I don’t know. That I never meant for it to get to him and I hope we could still be friends?”

He nodded, contemplative. “And you actually want to just be friends with him?”

“If the choice is between things being weird and never seeing each other again and friends? Yeah, I would like for him to still be in my life.”

“No, I mean are you really content only being friends with him or are you still into him?”

Brienne cocked her head, confused. “That doesn’t really matter.”

“Uh, _yeah_ it does,” he said.

No more of this. She was done. “So are you just going to stay here all afternoon or what? If I accept your ride home are you going to follow me inside?”

He grinned. “No, if you accept my ride home, I’ll officially let you go."

“Fine,” she said, grabbing her stuff and heading to the counter to pay. 

Jaime slapped a ten on the table and grabbed her by the elbow to lead her out of the cafe. 


	4. Chapter 4

Brienne felt like she was living in an alternate universe, sitting outside her house in the passenger seat of Jaime’s obnoxious Land Rover. 

With his signature grin, he said, “Well, this is the most fun I’ve had since my injury.”

“Only at the expense of my dignity,” she said, getting out of the car and ready to move on to the next stage of damage control. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Here’s a different thought,” Jaime said, getting out of the car and following her up the driveway. Brienne was going to point out that he’d promised to leave her alone, but his next statement threw her completely. “What if you let Renly keep thinking that it was me you were into?” 

“What?” Brienne said, stopping to face him, squinting her eyes, and trying to figure out his angle. “I don’t see how that would get around the letter.”

“No, see if we were dating— or I should say, if we let people think we’re dating— then it neutralizes the letter.”

Brienne burst out laughing. “Jaime”—pause for more astonished laughter—“no one would ever believe it!”

“Oh, I can sell it,” he said. That was undoubtably true about many things, but not this. 

Still chuckling a little, she continued, “No, not even you could sell the idea of us,” she gestured between them, “being together. Besides that, _I'm_ a terrible liar. But what I don’t get is why you would even want anyone to think that?” 

“When Cersei heard you kissed me she went ballistic,” Jaime said, and Brienne’s smile abruptly dropped. Cersei targeting her was the absolute last thing she wanted. “If we actually made a thing out of it, she wouldn’t be able to stand it and she’d want to get back together.” He shrugged.

Refreshingly, this time Brienne was the one with pity in her eyes. Awkwardly, she said, “I thought maybe you had been the one who broke up with her?” Truthfully, she had just hoped that might be the case, because his infatuation with Cersei was something she just couldn’t respect. 

“Don’t change the subject—”

“—You’re the one trying to change the subject,” she said, pointing a finger at him.

“It sounds like a win-win to me, wench,” he said, shoving his good hand in his jacket pocket, cocking his head, and shrugging his shoulders again. “Think about it.” 

“I can’t believe you’re serious,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief and still chuckling a little as she made her way towards her front door.

She hoped she might get away with slinking to her room unquestioned, but her father was waiting for her. He turned off _Jeopardy!_ and assumed an attitude that was almost smug. “So the Baratheon boy comes looking for you after school, you bolt, and come home with the captain of the football team? Something I should know?” He raised his eyebrows, but there was a bit of a smile on his face. 

Brienne didn’t think her father would have mailed the letters, but his apparent glee at Brienne’s sudden popularity caused the thought to cross her mind.

“Is there something I should know?” she asked, suspiciously.

Tarths were easy to read. His reaction of confusion told her immediately that he didn’t know anything. “Huh?”

“Nevermind. Uh, I can’t really explain, but all you really need to know is that what's going on is massively embarrassing.” Walking towards the fridge, she said, “Thanks, that’s all, and, uh, good night. I’m going to eat my sandwich in solitude.” She dashed towards her room before he could further probe. Her father didn’t typically disturb her if she closed her door.

She turned on her computer, intending on temporarily disconnecting from her reality by watching something while she ate. A classic, comforting rom com perhaps. When it booted up, her Messages app started dinging rapidly with all the texts she’d silenced earlier in the day. It was mostly texts from Sansa, all variations of, “OMG did you really KISS JAIME LANNISTER?!?”

_So no distractions, I guess,_ she thought. She’d work on that essay outline instead. She was always better at throwing herself into work or exercise. But as she tried to contemplate the effects of the Industrial Revolution, she found focusing nearly impossible. She’d have to talk to Sansa at some point and it hanging over her head was just increasing the dread. She picked up her phone and after a few attempted drafts, decided to just call. 

“Where have you been??” Sansa said. “I’ve been trying you all afternoon!”

"Yeah, I saw that,” Brienne said, pacing her floor. 

Brienne could hear Sansa’s grin over the phone as she adopted a mock newscaster voice. “Multiple sources have confirmed that Brienne Tarth and Jaime Lannister made out on the track field today— we go live to the woman of the hour.” She dropped the voice, “I need details, from the top, spare nothing!”

Brienne propped her leg up on the desk and stretched. She had not thought through what she'd actually say. She couldn't tell the truth without at least revealing the Renly stuff, if not the letters. “It was actually just a freak accident,” Brienne winced. How exactly? Where was she going with this?

Sansa echoed her thoughts, “Uh, how? You crashed into each other and your lips just happened to be the place of impact?”

Brienne paused (from speaking, not from moving— she was now doing pulsing lunges). “I fainted, it must have been dehydration or heatstroke or something, and I may have been delirious. Hallucinating, even.”  


“But you're not explaining how exactly you end up kissing…” Brienne stopped listening. Her head spun as she tried to come up with a viable explanation. Jaime’s proposal came back to her mind. 

“Look, let’s just talk in person, later,” Brienne said. “I’m still not feeling myself.”

“Clearly!” Sansa said, sounding disappointed and confused

Brienne sat on her floor, propped up against her bed. No one in the school would buy that Jaime Lannister, in all his sun-kissed, golden, rich, elite, asshole glory, would be sincerely attracted to and interested in awkward, towering, plain Brienne. She felt out of place in his car, let alone on his arm. Jaime was the kind of guy who was meant to have a pretty girl on his arm and Brienne was the kind of girl guys punched playfully on the arm and called “buddy”. Best case scenario. 

“Oh, I can sell it,” he had said, looking at her intently with a smirk that made her nervous.

Could he really? Could a “relationship” with Jaime act as an effective enough shield from all the questions coming her way? 

Or would it just draw so much attention that she’d end up even more exposed? Especially with Cersei on a warpath. Could she count on Jaime to have her back? Would this just be another opportunity to be humiliated?

How often she thought about high school dynamics like she was playing a strategy game or drawing up a battle plan. 

Her thoughts turned to Renly. She felt like she’d betrayed him. He’d be disappointed that they weren’t the friends he thought they were, that she had a different agenda all along. She wanted him to believe her when she said that she just wanted to be friends. Even though it wasn’t true, she wanted him to think it was more than anything. 

She didn't want to lose what she had with him, or Marg, for that matter, no matter how small it was. 

The next morning, Brienne was parked in the grocery store parking lot opposite the school well before school started. She liked to get to school early, both so she wouldn't be late to class and because she had an easier time parking when the lot was empty. Today though, she was concerned about running into anybody but one, so she parked where she could watch the cars coming in, but hopefully not be spotted herself. 

Jaime was cutting it close, as usual, and Brienne anxiously glanced at the clock, not willing to go to class without having this conversation, but not wanting to be late. When she saw the Land Rover approaching the turn light, she started her car.

Parking up in the same general area, Brienne strode over to Jaime, who was yawning as he got out of his car. Tyrion was still in the passenger seat, chattering away. She figured the coffee in his hand must be his second cup of the morning. 

When Jaime saw Brienne, his face perked up. "Change your mind?" he said teasingly. 

"Yeah. I'm in."

Jaime clearly hadn't actually expected that, but his look of surprise was quickly followed by one of satisfaction. 

"Or, at least," she clarified, lowering her voice as Tyrion came around to their side of the car, "let's talk about it. At lunch?" Jaime agreed. 

The three of them, an odd collection if there ever was one, walked towards the school. Brienne knew Tyrion was trying to read the vibe, but thankfully, he kept the harmless small talk flowing, so she didn't feel too awkward.

"I'm this way," she said, gesturing towards the math building. 

"Cool, see you at lunch," Jaime said. Then, casual and smooth as if he'd been doing it for years, he cupped her face and kissed her. 

It was nothing dramatic as far as kisses go, and yet Brienne felt like her heart was on a bungee chord—it plowed through her stomach, dropped straight out of her body, and then rocketed back up to somewhere in her throat.

Jaime was already walking away before she could even move. Stunned, and still intensely aware of where Jaime's lips just were, she moved towards class in a daze. Yesterday's kiss had been so adrenaline fueled and distracted that she hadn't even really felt anything, but this was something entirely different. 

They were going to need some rules if Brienne was going to survive this. 


	5. Chapter 5

“Number one,” Brienne said, opening her notebook to a fresh page and writing in her large, rounded script. “No more kissing.”

They were sitting on the football field bleachers— Jaime’s former kingdom. Brienne’s notebook sat on her lap, at the top of the page was the heading: “Contract”. Jaime was sitting below her, with his back to the field, leaning with his good arm on her bench and looking up at her.

“What?” Jaime said, incredulously. “We’re supposed to be dating! How can we not kiss?”

“I can’t, Jaime. It’s too uncomfortable.”

“Might I remind you that you started it?”

“I’m sure you’ll never let me forget it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Look, this is only going to work— and I’m still not convinced it’ll work at all— if we hang onto reality where we can. I can’t just become some different person to date you, we have to play this out like it’s really me and I’m just not a person who would be comfortable with PDA. Plus, I don’t want to be fake intimate with someone, it’s weird.”

“How would you like to convince people we’re a couple then?” he said, his tone slightly mocking, but seemingly accepting of her stance. 

“We can hold hands,” Brienne said, aware of how childish she sounded. She couldn’t help laughing a little at the absurdity of the negotiation. “We can be affectionate, just no kissing and no groping.” He laughed and she smacked his good arm. “I don’t know, Jaime, I have no frame of reference for this stuff!”

“I do! I know how to be a boyfriend, wench.”

“But you have no frame of reference for dating _me_. Your previous relationship is not going to be a template for this.”

“Ok, watch out folks, things are heating up. Holding hands— on the table.” He pushed himself up and began pacing, circling her, stepping up and down the rows. “I can come to your matches too,” he suggested. He bounced up and down on his toes and adopted a girly voice, saying, “I could wear your jersey and make banners and bring you cupcakes!”

Brienne was both blushing and laughing. “I mean, you certainly don’t have to do any of that, but it probably would look good if you were there.”

“Done. I’ll come to your matches and you’ll come to the end-of-the-year formal with me.” She looked up at him in horror. “It’s like this society thing my dad buys a table at every year. And this year Cersei is one of the debutantes ‘on display’ or whatever.”

“Jaime,” Brienne said, feeling like this whole thing was a wildly misguided idea for the fiftieth time. “Do I look like the type of person who belongs at a ball?”

“You look like the type of person who’d make it a lot more fun than those things have any right to be. It’s part of the deal. Write it down!”

“But I’m not a debutante and I wouldn’t know anything about how to behave in a situation like that.” She pictured herself, awkward in some cheap and ill-fitting gown, hulking over a crowd of elegant waifs who all looked like Cersei. 

“That’s precisely why I want to take you. It’ll enrage Cersei and irritate my father.”

She exhaled. That was months away. This wasn’t likely to last that long anyway. “Ok. Fine. Number two is match attendance and number three is the formal. I propose number four should be that we promise to never tell anyone that this isn’t real. The humiliation would be…hard to recover from.”

“Deal. Number five is we go on the class ski trip over winter break. And because I know you’re gonna fight me on that too, let me say that I will pay for this service in public romantic gestures.”

“I told you, I don’t want PDA.”

“No, I mean gestures, like little love notes and things like that. Cersei always wanted stuff that kind of stuff and it’ll drive her crazy if she sees me doing it for you.”

“And how do you expect to ski with that?” she said, using her pen to point to his cast. 

“I’ll be able to do a couple of runs on a snowboard by then,” he said, an edge of defensiveness in his voice.

“But if you fall you could do more damage—“

“It doesn’t matter,” he snapped. “My athletic career is over, in fact my whole future is shot, so it’s not like getting any more busted up makes a difference.” Brienne paused, looking up at him warily. “Are you going to question absolutely everything?” he said frustratedly. 

She just raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips, returning to her list to write ‘Five: Ski Trip’ and ‘Six: Romantic Gestures’. “Anything else?” she said curtly, also a little frustrated, mainly with herself for getting into this idiotic situation in the first place.

Jaime sat down next to her, the tension palpably leaving his body. He returned to his earlier casual tone. “Maybe just specify that we should have some kind of date or outing on, what, a weekly basis?”

“Six will be public gestures,” she said, reconfiguring the list.”Six a): Romantic Gestures and Six b) Regular Dates.’ Or at least things that appear to be dates.”

“Can I have my lawyers look this over?” She could feel him staring intently and grinning at her even though her eyes remained fixed on the page. 

She suppressed a smile and tried to remain firm. “Sign it,” she said firmly, handing him the pen and notebook. As he did so, she worked up the courage to say, “Jaime, number four is the most important, okay? This absolutely can’t get out.”

“I know,” he said, serious for only a moment before switching into a joking accent and saying, “Fear not, my lady, I will not besmirch your honor.” He stood again and extended his good arm to her.

By the end of the day, there wasn’t a person in the school who hadn’t heard that Brienne Tarth and Jaime Lannister a thing. Enough people had witnessed the kisses or seen them coming back from the bleachers after lunch, Jaime’s arm slung around her shoulder.

The story was simple— the one she peddled to Sansa, and Margaery, and even to her father. “We just started hanging out a little and it somehow turned into something more.” She injected what realism she could, always emphasizing that she knew exactly how far fetched it seemed, and defaulted to shrugging when asked a question she didn’t know how to answer.

If she hadn’t been in on it, Brienne wouldn’t have believed it herself. But Jaime sold it well, and he was the one everyone looked at. 


	6. Chapter 6

“I’m not changing anything about myself,” Brienne said adamantly.

“I know,” Sansa nodded reassuringly.

“This isn’t because I’m in a relationship.” She still blushed at the word.

“Of course.” Sansa’s patience with her was admirable. 

“And it’s not anything over the top, it’s just a few new things,” Brienne said, more to herself at this point. She had asked Sansa to go shopping with her over the weekend. Even though she was determined not to let this _situation_ dominate her life, she did want a few new articles of clothing. Things that still felt like her, but would make her feel slightly more comfortable standing next to Jaime. 

Sansa was “mmhmm”ing Brienne’s justifications all while picking up items around the store they were perusing. “So, tell me more about Jaime! What is it you like about him?” she asked, quickly adding, “I’m not saying there aren’t things to like! I just want to hear about what drew you to him exactly. Aside from the obvious.”

“The obvious?” Brienne said.

“Yeah,” Sansa chuckled, “I’d say his face and hair and body would be the obvious.” She held up a jumpsuit and Brienne scrunched her nose.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that.” Sansa nodded and kept moving. Sansa knew when to tactfully push Brienne and when to let her stay in her comfort zone. “Um, yeah, so he can be a pain and all, but he’s actually surprisingly fun and easy to be around.” She hushed her voice— you never knew where Cersei had ears— to say, “I think being with Cersei for all that time… dimmed some of his better qualities, you know?”

Sansa nodded, her expression neutral. Again, she knew how to be tactful. 

Brienne was painfully aware that nothing about her explanation was remotely romantic, she could be describing a cousin. She tried to recall the language of the romance stories she loved, but channeling those would feel so inauthentic. “I mean,” she could feel her face flush, “when you’re one-on-one with him… and at the receiving end of that kind of intense attention it’s really…” Brienne trailed off, unable to both come up with something on the spot and articulate it. How did people usually talk about this?

“It’s okay, I know you’re not really one for gushy girl talk,” Sansa said as they made their way towards the dressing rooms, to Brienne’s relief. “I just want to know you can talk about it if you want to. And I want to be excited about it with you!”

Brienne almost scoffed, because she had thought her portrayal of Jaime’s girlfriend was more ‘awkward and pained’ than ‘excited.’ 

Sansa handed her a pile of clothes— mostly casual wear, but there were a few ambitious pieces. She ended up landing on some good jeans that fit well and picked a few simple, but cute tees that flattered her as best as she could hope. Sansa tried to talk her into a pretty, sleeveless blouse, but even though Brienne actually liked the way it looked, it just seemed like too much of a leap. She didn’t want to draw any attention, or even make people think she was trying to draw attention. Sansa also campaigned for a dress, saying she needed a date outfit. 

“I really can’t afford to get anything more,” Brienne said, grateful that the shirts were two for one. 

“Yeah.” Sansa said, before sighing. “I want you to have everything you want. You never treat yourself.”

Brienne blushed and brushed it off.

When she and Sansa pulled onto their street after the mall, Renly’s car was there. Brienne went cold, and yet somehow sweaty. “I wonder if he’s here to grovel to Marg again,” Sansa muttered.

“He’s been groveling? So _she_ broke up with _him_?” Brienne said, trying to sound nonchalant. 

“I honestly don’t know what went down exactly. But it's been ongoing. She’ll have a long conversation with Renly and then come back upset and close herself off in her room. He’s the one that keeps reaching out, so I assume it’s groveling.”

Brienne noticed that Renly was still in the driver’s seat, parked on her side of the street, so she couldn’t help wonder if he was there not for Marg, but for her. To have the conversation they didn’t get to on the track field. 

Brienne got out of the car slowly, wondering if there was a way to keep Sansa around as a shield, but she was grabbing her shopping bag and crossing the street already. “Oh, did you want to come over or something?” Brienne said feebly.

Sansa turned, but before she could respond, Renly had gotten out of his car and said, “Hey, Brienne, can I talk to you for a second?”

Sansa raised her eyebrows and shrugged, saying she’d catch Brienne later.

Trying not to grimace, Brienne nodded and said, “Uh, yeah, I only have a minute, but…”

Renly looked a little at a loss, and they stood in awkward silence for a beat before he eventually said, “I can’t believe you’re dating Jaime Lannister.”

Brienne stiffened a little. “I know. What does a guy like that want with a girl like me? I get it.”

“No— of course that’s not— it’s that he’s a dick and you’re like this down-to-earth, innocent girl. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Brienne flushed. Even though he was voicing her exact concern, she couldn’t help but feel offended. She was tired of having to worry about cruel motives behind every corner and she was tired of other people’s pity. 

“It’s not a prank, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said, talking to him for maybe the first time ever without either smiling gratefully or nodding along to what he was saying. “So if that’s why you’re here, I’m good, thanks. I don’t need rescuing.”

She flashed back to the time he _had_ come to her rescue, the moment that had cemented her affection and esteem for him. It had been homecoming last year, not too long after the bet, and Hyle and some of the boys had been mocking her. Renly had asked her to dance, kindly, genuinely. A minute prior, the prospect of dancing and drawing even more eyes to her was unthinkable, but when Renly asked, his blue eyes bright and sincere, she couldn't say no. She didn't feel like the bumbling beast they all thought she was anymore. She floated on air for the rest of the night.

Those blue eyes were looking at her pained now, as he exhaled in frustration. “No, that’s not why I’m here.” Her stomach dropped. “I got a letter…”

Brienne shook her head and put her hands out as if to say, "Stop right there. “That was from a long time ago. I’m sorry, you never should have seen it.” 

“So…” Renly stared at her with intensity, almost desperation, that made her second guess everything. How could he look at her like that? “That’s not how you feel? This is a really confusing time for me right now and I…I need to understand. So I can make sense of it all."

Brienne faltered. What would happen if she told him? What could she lose? It was already weird anyway. _No_ , her self-preservation reminded her, _no good comes of this. Margaery, Sansa, Renly, you have all of them to lose._ As relaxed and easy as she could manage, she said, “No, it’s not. You don’t need to worry about me.”

Renly still looked pained and was about to speak when he halted, looking at something in the distance. Brienne turned to find Jaime speeding down the street. He pulled up right in front of where they stood on Brienne’s lawn. Brienne, who had no recollection of any plans with him, said “Jaime?” but caught herself and, trying to sound pleased, added, “You’re here…already.”

Jaime was striding across the lawn, aloof and gorgeous in his expensive sunglasses and bomber windbreaker over a fitted white tee. He looked more his shining, golden self than the pallid apparition that had been haunting the halls since his accident.

He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the side of her head. She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. The agreement was entirely no kissing— not just no kissing on the mouth. She’d have to clarify. Thank goodness her hair was freshly washed.

He pulled away a little so he could look at her and he smiled, not his half-smirk, but the full wattage, and to great effect. Brienne couldn’t help but blush and squirm a little. He tilted his head and said, “I couldn’t wait to see you.”

“I’ll excuse myself,” Renly said, hardly masking his irritation. 

Jaime brought Brienne in tight, nodded smugly, and said, “Thanks, see ya.”

Brienne looked at Renly apologetically and he turned to get back in his car. Furrowing her eyebrows, she elbowed Jaime and said quietly, “Being rude doesn’t help anything.”

He moved so they were facing each other, keeping his good hand on her shoulder. She, who was used to having a personal space barrier, was not yet accustomed to his easy physicality. “Isn’t pissing off Renly exactly what I’m supposed to be doing? Besides you said we have to be ourselves. Well, I wouldn’t be cool with someone moving in on my girl like that.”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “ _Throwing_ him off, not pissing him off. And if he had any intention of ‘moving in,’ we,” she gestured between them, “wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Well, that hurts, wench.” He touched his hand to his heart mockingly before saying, “So can I come in or what?”

“What? Why? Why are you here anyway?” She backed away from him.

“We’re dating—as far as anyone knows— I can’t come over on a weekend without being interrogated?” 

Her expression remained puzzled. “I don’t get why you’d go to the trouble to come here without anyone around to see it.” He didn’t know Renly was going to be here, after all. 

He exhaled frustratedly, the casual irreverence he usually cloaked himself with momentarily slipping. “Can you get it into your head once and for all that I might not _mind_ being around you? Or at least I would if you weren’t so hostile towards me all the time.”

Brienne opened her mouth to contradict him, but stopped when she realized he wasn’t entirely wrong. “It’s…taking some getting used to.”

“Can you trust me? Even though we’re lying to everyone else, can we agree to be honest with each other?”

After a deep breath, Brienne nodded. She didn’t know if she’d be able to deliver, but she could try. “Come on, then,” she said, grateful her father wasn’t home. 

His smirk returned and as he followed her towards her front door, he said, “I was thinking we could hang out and then go to Addam’s party tonight.”

Brienne laughed as she pushed the door open. “Yeah, I’m not doing that.”

“Hey, you’re the one who wanted the contract, and that stipulated public outings. Renly will probably be there and Cersei will definitely be there, so it’ll be efficient.”

She turned back to glare at him. He  was irritatingly good-looking. He was also just plain irritating. “I hate parties.”

He followed her into the kitchen, where he leaned on the counter opposite her as she dumped her bags. 

“When was the last time you went to one?” he asked. “Our Spin the Bottle encounter in middle school?”

Brienne went red at the reference to her first kiss. Of course had been to a party since she was twelve, she just could think of one at the moment. Did school functions count? She had made a brief and wholly uncomfortable appearance at a Tyrell party once over the summer, but had bailed pretty early. With the exception of sport, she spent most of her time at school in groups where she either felt ridiculed or invisible— why would she seek out more of that? Not to mention, alcohol didn’t exactly enhance her classmates, in her opinion. 

“Based on that long silence, I’m going to say that you haven’t had to endure too many parties and you can suck it up for this one. Plus, you’ll be with _me,”_ he waggled his eyebrows suggestively, which made her laugh. 

He came around the counter towards her slowly, a sly expression on his face, and she wasn’t sure if the swoop in her stomach was dread or something else. He slid his hands around her hips and pulled her close to him, which caused her to spring back in surprise. 

“What’re you doing?” she yelped.

“Testing you! And you failed miserably. You can’t flinch whenever I touch you. That kind of blows our cover.”

Part of her thought that it was completely unnecessary for Jaime to be here at all, groping her in her kitchen when there wasn’t even anyone around to fool. The other part of her knew he had a point and that if anyone was going to buy this— and they had to buy it, because the alternative was too painful— she’d have to get more comfortable with acting the part of girlfriend.

She mumbled something about how she wouldn’t have flinched if they were in public, but she worked up enough nerve to scoot back towards him. Gingerly, she wrapped her arms around his neck and fought with everything in her to hold eye contact. It was unusual for people to be at eye level with her, but Jaime’s striking green eyes were close to even with hers. And they were alight with mischief. She knew she was blushing furiously, but she jut out her jaw and held her ground.

“So,” he said, bringing her hips against him again, while Brienne determined not to squirm. “You’ll go to the party with me?”

As she was about to grumble her consent, she heard the slam of her father’s car door and panicking, she untangled herself from Jaime and backed away, breathing far too heavily. 

Jaime leaned on the counter, smirking up at her far too gleefully.

She heard the front door close and her father called out, “Hey,” as he passed by the kitchen, but upon noticing the tall, handsome boy within, he paused and backed up. “Hello, son… Jaime, right? The quarterback?”

Jaime’s smirk faltered a little, but he managed a polite, “Not anymore,” with a gesture to his sling. Standing up straight, he extended his left hand to Selwyn for a respectful handshake. 

“I guess I’ll call you the boyfriend, then.” He wore an expression of delighted disbelief as he looked from his innocent, introverted daughter to this shining star of a boy who’s interest she had captured out of nowhere. Brienne knew it wasn’t Jaime’s status that mattered her father, that he was simply relieved and happy that she was getting to have the typical teenage experience that had largely alluded her thus far. It made her sort of sad when she thought about how that wasn't real.

“Sir, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to take Brienne to a friend’s party this evening. I’ll have her home by, say, eleven?”

Selwyn blinked a few times before remembering that it was his fatherly duty to set rules and boundaries for his teenage daughter— it wasn’t something he had ever needed to do before. Brienne was so stable, trustworthy, and capable of self-management. He hadn’t had to check up on her schoolwork since she was in fifth grade. Was eleven a reasonable time?

“Uh, that’ll be fine. As long as there’s no drinking or-or substances of any kind and no…getting frisky,” he said, trying to draw up an impression of a stern father he’d seen on television. 

“Dad!” Brienne said, mortified.

Jaime chuckled and put his hands up. “As you say, sir.”


	7. Chapter 7

Brienne was relieved to find the party was more mellow than she expected and there were a number of actives to partake in, rather than just small talk and drinking. Tyrion was perched precariously on a stool, playing pool with some students from Sunspear High. Cersei was among the spectators watching a highly competitive game of beer pong between Addam and a few college-aged guys (including what looked like Renly’s older brother). There appeared to be some lawn games going on in the backyard and a pool. Brienne craned her neck to see if she could spot Renly, but it was too dark. 

Addam came over to greet Jaime while the other guys’ took their turns. “Hey, man,” he said, doing that half-handshake, half-hug thing that guys did. “And Brienne, glad you could make it,” he said, with genuine warmth that surprised her. Despite having had classes together, he’d never really spoken to her. “Drinks are out back, help yourselves.”

Brienne smiled meekly and thanked him before he ran back over to his game. Jaime wrapped his arm around her waist, and looked at her reassuringly but before they’d made it out of the entrance hall, Margarey came over in a flurry. 

“Brienne, I’m so glad you’re here!” she said, clasping her slender fingers around Brienne’s wrist and tugging her towards her. “Can I have her for a second?” she asked Jaime. 

Jaime smiled, glad to see Brienne welcomed so heartily. “I’ll grab us drinks,” he said to Brienne, nodding to Margarey as he went.

Margarey pulled her towards a couch, not far from the pool table, where Tyrion was denying claims of hustling to someone named Oberyn. 

“I’m so sorry I’ve been such a terrible friend.”

“What?” Brienne said, shocked. It was Brienne who had written her boyfriend a love letter. What did Margarey have to apologize for?

“I’ve been so preoccupied with the Renly stuff that I didn’t have _a clue_ anything was happening with you and Jaime Lannister. I pride myself on my intuition, you know, and on having the inside scoop,” she said, with a playful flick of her long, chestnut curls, “and I completely missed it. And haven’t even really heard the story yet, so can we catch up already?”

“Oh,” Brienne said, putting a hand to her face, “please don’t apologize. You’re going through a break-up—” Brienne stopped suddenly, as it occurred to her that it might not be that simple; there had been all those long conversations Sansa mentioned. Maybe they were working through stuff or had patched things up. “—I mean, I don’t know that exactly, I’m not sure where things stand…”

Margarey scoffed, but she looked weary. “Oh, it’s definitely over.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Brienne asked tentatively, knowing that she had so many conflicting agendas that acting as an objective and unbiased listener would be complicated.

“No, no! I want to hear about Jaime!” She bounced up and down a little. “Beyond what you briefly mentioned to Sansa and I the other day.”

Brienne wanted to groan. She didn’t have anything else beyond what she’d mentioned to her and Sansa the other day. She was spared from that challenge in the form of another one, as Cersei and her friend, Taena, entered the sitting area. 

“Ooh, girl talk?” Taena said, as the two girls took seats opposite Brienne and Margarey. Something in her tone told Brienne she was being mocked.“I want in. Dishing on Jaime?”

Cersei’s cool, haughty expression didn’t look as indifferent as she likely wanted it to. “Brienne doesn’t dish,” she said, looking down at her nails. Then, her eyes flicked up to meet Brienne’s and were burning like wildfyre. “She’s _shy_. Right, Brienne?”

Brienne held her gaze, determined to be serene and impassive. As little as she wanted to provoke Cersei’s wrath, she had no reason to be afraid of her. It was Cersei who had a real stake in this, not Brienne. 

“What would you like to know?” Brienne offered, hoping she might have a better chance answering questions rather than having to come up with her own material.

“When?” Margarey asked.

“How?” Taena added.

“ _Why?”_ Cersei said, contemptuously. 

“How far?” Taena giggled. 

“Please, they haven’t done anything,” Cersei scoffed.

“How would you know?” Brienne said, surprising herself.

“Because I know Jaime. And I know Brienne,” Cersei said, truly confident for the first time since she’d sat down. She mumbled under her breath, but not inaudibly, “I mean, look at her. It’s a joke.”

Margarey was saying something about Brienne clearly being full of marvelous surprises, but Brienne simply smiled. When Jaime had suggested fake dating, she had a hard time imagining Cersei being jealous of her. But somehow, Cersei _was_ threatened by her. Perhaps simply because she was Cersei’s opposite in every way and how would that make Cersei feel if Jaime actually liked that? Whatever it was, it made Cersei a lot less intimidating. 

“How about we actually let Brienne speak for herself,” Margarey was saying exasperatedly to Taena when Jaime approached.

He came up behind the couch, offering Brienne her drink and wrapping his good arm around her to whisper in her ear, “Rescue mission. Come play pool with me.” 

Brienne instinctively brought her hands up to rest on the arm encircling her and nuzzled into him a little bit. “Sure,” she said, turning to smile at him, truly feeling thankful for his timing. For a moment, they just stared at one another, as they had earlier that day in the kitchen, each daring the other to break eye contact first. Even Brienne, who knew it wasn’t real, felt a little heat. 

“Well, I think we can let _that_ speak for itself actually,” Margarey said, with a satisfied smirk, as Jaime offered his hand to help Brienne up from the couch. He nodded hello to the other girls and slid his hand into the back pocket of her new jeans as he steered them towards the pool table.

Tyrion was sat on the table now, his legs swinging as he polished off his drink. They were joined by Bronn, a rough-around-the-edges friend of the Lannister boys who should have graduated by now, but had encountered a few disciplinary setbacks. 

As the foursome played several rounds, Brienne found that she was having fun. Jaime thought it was funny to grind up behind Brienne while she was bending over for a shot and she’d laugh and swat him away.

“Gods, Brienne, is there anything you don’t dominate at?” Tyrion said, when it became evident that her pool skills matched her athletic prowess. Even gruff Bronn admitted he was impressed.

“I like winning,” she shrugged, a cheeky grin spreading across her face. She’d picked up pool because it was a favorite pastime of her father’s.

“Driving,” Jaime suggested and Brienne tried to glare at him, but ended up suppressing a smile. “You did almost kill me, after all.”

She continued to crush at pool and the boys began suggesting nicknames for her (“The Tower of Tarth,” “Billiards Brienne,” “The Stormlands Sinker,” “Target Tarth,” “Cue-tie”). 

Jaime excused himself to go to the bathroom and Bronn went to get another drink, leaving Brienne and Tyrion alone. He climbed back onto the stool and Brienne leaned against the table a little to even out their significant height difference. 

“It may be a bit premature to say this, but I think you may be the best thing that’s happened to Jaime in a long time,” Tyrion said. Brienne studied him, sure he had to be joking, but there was no hint of jest. He registered her confused expression and went on, “He’s been more energized— more _alive—_ this week than he’s been since his injury. Even before he got hurt, he wasn’t all that happy.” He shot a pointed look to where Cersei was flirting with Robert Baratheon.

Brienne started tentatively, wondering how she could phrase this. “Why… or how did… Jaime,” she lowered her voice, “Why Cersei…”

“How could be Jaime in love with Cersei for so long?” Tyrion offered, bluntly. “I know.” He sighed heavily. 

“I like him, Tyrion, a lot. And I think he’s a good person. But I can’t help question that and wonder if I should be getting involved with a guy who has spent his entire adolescence infatuated with someone like her.” In a way, that sentence was essentially true. 

“Oh, don’t hold that against him, please,” he said, and his tone was light and merry, but his expression was more serious. “We’re all so pleased he’s gotten a second chance with you.”

“We?” Brienne asked. 

“Mainly Addam and myself, the friends that Jaime has managed to hold onto, largely in spite of his relationship. Bronn would also surely be in favor, I’m sure.” 

“You don’t think we’re kind of…a ridiculous couple?” Brienne said, not meeting Tyrion’s too-clever eyes.

Tyrion paused thoughtfully. “I’m guessing that what you’ve discovered recently is that you’ve got a lot more in common with Jaime than you’d thought. It may have come as a surprise to you at first, but now it feels quite right? A good fit. I think that’s how it is for the observer as well— a surprise but, to those who truly know you both, quite right.”

Brienne was slightly amazed at his ability to deliver an honest and believable answer, while still being reassuring.

He continued in his supposition of Brienne’s internal process. “Not a lot of people truly know Jaime. And now that you’re getting to see the real Jaime, you’re realizing, maybe you had misjudged him all this time. Maybe… _if_ it wasn’t for this one sticking point, this one reminder that he could just be exactly the douchebag you thought he was— Cersei.”

Tyrion had the perceptivity of a psychologist and the persuasive rhetoric of a lawyer and, for a brief moment, Brienne was simply taken aback by the sheer power and potential of the drunken boy beside her. 

She nodded and gave him credit for the accuracy of his assessment. “Ok, so you probably know better than anyone— what’s your read on that relationship?” 

“That situation was toxic in every way, but I think the attachment was so strong because it was formed in a time of extreme emotional vulnerability. And I think it all got mixed up for Jaime— they had this singular connection, so it must be this star-crossed, epic, forever love story. Drama and passion and jealousy and co-dependency and obsession therefore equals love. Cersei _is_ a master manipulator and has undoubtedly played him extensively, but Jaime’s not an idiot either. He chose her, but I think he thought he couldn’t help it.”

At that moment, Brienne noticed Cersei was coming out of the hallway where Jaime had gone and, after a beat, he emerged as well. He went straight outside, towards Bronn and the drinks, and Brienne felt slightly hurt, though she knew she had absolutely no valid reason to, so she attempted to usher that feeling out as quickly as it had arrived.

“Do you think he’d be upset that we’re having this conversation?” Brienne asked, turning her attention back to Tyrion. 

“Certainly,” he said. “But the point of it _—_ which, thank you for reminding me, I almost didn’t get there _—_ is that my brother is a great guy and I think being with someone like you would bring out the best in him.” With that, he took a big swig of his drink, but he quickly put it back down, his face puckered in disgust. “What happened to my beer?”

“It’s not your beer, it’s my sparkling water,” Brienne said with an amused smile, pointing to where his drink sat behind him. She had been pleasantly surprised that Jaime had neither tried to get her to drink nor gotten wasted himself. He was driving, but if he had wanted to drink, she could have driven them home. Although, considering her lack of confidence behind the wheel, perhaps he didn’t consider that an option.

Tyrion finished off his original drink and said, “Shall we join them outside for another?”

As Brienne wove through the growing crowd, following Tyrion out to the yard,  Brienne saw that Renly was here, in the group that was swimming and splashing in the pool. Hyle, to her horror, was among them, tossing a football to Loras, who caught it in midair before crashing into the deep-end.

In some petty attempt to not be clingy, Brienne looked around for an ally other than Jaime. She noticed Sansa’s cousin, Jon, and his friend, Sam, playing corn hole in the sideyard, and, crucially, their backs were to the pool. Perhaps she could join them. Both boys had always been nice. Well, Sam was very nice and Jon, while reserved and brooding, was never unpleasant. Glancing back towards the rabble around the pool, she saw that Ron was toweling off by the jacuzzi. 

She shivered involuntarily and was immediately met with, “Are you cold?” Jaime was already shrugging off his bomber jacket before she could deny and she didn’t bother protesting as he wrapped it around her shoulders. It was a very boyfriend-y thing to do after all. “Do you want to get out of here? Grab some food?”

She looked at him like he was her knight in shining armor and nodded gratefully.

"Good," he said and he leaned in closer to whisper conspiratorially, "I hate these parties, too."


End file.
